Will You Go to the Ball with Me?
by Chloe Veverka
Summary: What if Fred had asked Angelina to the Yule Ball in a different way? How might he have gone about it? Five different scenarios; sweetness and a little humor abound. Written for the Forum's Five Things Challenge. Rated T for a little profanity.
1. Chapter 1: Just Ask

A/N: Written for the **Five Things Challenge **on the HP Fanfiction Challenges Forum. I absolutely love the way that Fred asks Angelina out in GoF, don't get me wrong; I think it's cute and fitting to their relationship. He bounces paper off of her head, she looks annoyed at the action, he mimes his sentiments, and she's instantly forgiving. So I wondered how else Fred could've asked Angelina to the ball, hence **five ways Fred could've asked Angelina to the Yule Ball.** Each of the scenarios is a stand-alone. I like some of my scenarios better than others, but I'm not saying which ^^

Scenario 1 Note: All dialogue, I think it turned out all right!

Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_.

**

SCENARIO 1: Just Ask: Plain and Simple and Red

"Angelina Johnson! Just the charming witch I was looking for."

"Whatever it is, the answer is no."

"What? How can you possibly turn me down when you have no idea what I've come a-calling for?"

"You've come 'a-calling.' That's reason enough to turn you down."

"Well that's beyond fair, you know."

"The world is far from fair, Fred."

"So you won't even hear me out, sweet Angie?"

"Oh, you know I will."

"Really?"

"Of course. Whatever you have to say will probably leave me laughing a few minutes from now, your mouth gaping in the hallway. …Besides, it's bound to be more interesting than whatever sludge awaits in Potions."

"That is definitely true. I swear, your psychic skills grow better each day."

"Means of survival. So come off it. What is it?"

"I need to ask a favor of you."

"No surprise there."

"A pretty big favor actually."

"Why Fred, is that… Are you blushing?"

"Me? Blush? Dear, you must be mistaking blushing for the glorious tan I was getting in this brilliant English sun."

"I think you're growing even more pinkish. Well this must be good."

"You're not gonna make this easy on me, are you?"

"I haven't done a thing. I don't exactly know what all of this is about, after all."

"You're a smart witch. You can probably surmise."

"Give me a hint."

"It involves the fiasco called this school year."

"What, you mean the absence of Quidditch? You know better than to get me riled up about that whole thing. So bloody maddening…"

"No no, not that."

"Well then, is it this whole tournament affair? I hope you're not planning something particularly dirty for it. You know Dumbledore isn't as daft as he seems."

"I…Well, I make no promises on that. But that isn't the matter at hand here."

"You are failing miserably at giving me a good reason from entering that Potions classroom. And we are talking about dapper Snape."

"Wow. That's harsh, Angie. I'm not more interesting than Snape? How can you say such a thing? That's a deep cut!"

"Then spit it out, what's going on?"

"It involves the Ball."

"There it is again!"

"What?"

"Your blush. It's taking on a brighter red, you know."

"No, I didn't know. And I don't need you telling me this right now!"

"But it's so cute, Freddie."

"Don't call me Freddie…Wait, did you just admit you find me cute?"

"You're digressing Fred."

"You think I'm adorable, don't you."

"You're getting more delusional, Fred."

"You think I'm…"

"I'll catch you later, Fred."

"Wait! No, sorry, you're right. I'm digressing. But yes, the Ball…"

"Oh. Oh no. No, Fred, I won't talk to any veela on your behalf. It's not like us females haven't noticed how brain dead you boys get around those walking love potions. The sighing. The ogling. The drooling. I will not willingly help you turn into a public display of bubbling hormones. That kind of request goes beyond the limits of our friendship."

"That's not what…"

"And furthermore, I'm shocked you could even suggest such a thing! You're a grown lad, you've asked out girls plenty times on your own. I can't fathom why you'd need my assistance this time 'round."

"Are you gonna stop long enough for me to tell you you're wrong?"

"I'm stopping."

"Angie."

"Yes, Fred."

"You're wrong."

"Sorry."

"Quite all right. It does happen, despite how much you hate to admit it."

"What? I am rarely wrong!"

"You were just now."

"I was teasing you, Fred!"

"I know. Which also shows how cruel you are, always teasing me. It breaks a lad's heart, you know, always feeling so unrequited in his efforts."

"Fred."

"Yes, Angie."

"I've a date with Snape. See you later."

…

"_Say Angie, would you go to the Yule Ball with me?_ That's all you had to say. But no. You had to be a bloody twit about it. 'Date with Snape?' Absolutely bloody…"

"Hey Fred?"

"Yes George."

"Who were you just talking to?"

"My stupidity."

"Oh. Well, don't get too invested. That conversation could go on for eons."

"Supportive you are."

"You said something dumb to Ange, I'm guessing."

"How'd you know?"

"You're red."

"Sometimes, I hate how observant you are."

"You're getting redder."

"Oh shut it."

**

"Hey!"

"Fred! 'ello, you startled me."

"Sorry, not my intent."

"Were you waiting for me to get out of class?"

"Um, yes, yes I was."

"Does this have anything to do with the earlier blunder of a conversation?"

"Yes, yes it does."

"Are you going to just tell me what you meant by that?"

"Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

"Because honestly, I sat through most of class confused by what that whole thing was about."

"Angie…"

"If it wasn't about Quidditch or the tournament or the veela, then what were you trying to go on about with the Ball?"

"Angie."

"Yes, Fred."

"Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

"…"

"Angie?"

"I'm sorry, I thought you were just asking me on a date to the Ball."

"I did. I do. All that."

"You certain you haven't been hexed or anything?"

"Angie!"

"Sure. All right."

"All right? You don't sound so certain."

"Of course I'll go with you."

"Really?"

"If I can get you to do that all night, it'll be a classic time."

"Do what?"

"Grow so red."

"Oh shut it."

"Your ego says 'shut it,' but your smile says 'I adore you."

"Don't be so cute."

"I wonder if it can match the color of your hair…"

"You aren't careful and I'll retract my offer."

"You'd never do that."

"How d'you know?"

"Those psychic skills of mine just keep getting better."

**

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	2. Chapter 2: Offer a Free Sample

A/N: Thank you to those who have reviewed. It's hard to tell whether the writing's going all right without some criticism. So I'm glad you liked the first chapter/scenario! :) New readers: Please feel free to make me smile bigger by reviewing, too! :D

Disclaimer: I don't own _Harry Potter_.

SCENARIO 2: Offer a Free Sample

Countless eyes froze across the spans of the room, staring across the great divide of hormones mixed with fear of coordination. It was time for dance lessons, day one. Witches or not, the Gryffindor students were still teenagers. Frightened, klutzy teenagers. And the boys were particularly worse off.

So when Professor McGonagall released Ron from their wooden exhibition, the rest of the students ended their snickers with the realization that it was their turn now. Fred and George resolved their conversation with Harry to watch one brave Neville Longbottom make the first move on their side, crossing the room to dare and ask a partner to the floor. As more people came together, Fred searched the sea of Gryffindor girls to find a particular witch. Their eyes made instant contact and he smiled. He jerked his head to the center of the floor with a smirk. She raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms. He held his arms out and mimicked a supposedly suave dance move. She half-smirked and shrugged playfully. He clasped his hands together, begging with his traditional puppy eyed, pouty expression. She rolled her eyes and mouthed her concession before moving towards him. They met in the middle, taking a post near Harry and Hermione. Ron was a few people away with Katie Bell, sending envious daggers towards Harry. Hermione must still be sore at him.

"Melodramatic much?" Angie asked facing him.

"A guy's gotta do what he can."

"You couldn't just ask?"

"Not as much fun."

"What, like this class isn't going to be awkward as anything?"

"Not if we make it fun," he suggested as the professor advised the guys to take the leading stance. "Beg your pardon," he added as he placed one hand on her hip and took her hand in his free one.

She smiled. "Fred Weasley, always the gentleman."

"Only when in the presence of a lady like yourself."

"Oh that's tripe."

He smirked down at her. "I try when I can."

The next duration consisted of the professor trying to guide the students through the basic moves of the traditional dance that would begin the ball. It consisted of a quick step and switches between leading hands and twirling.

"Fred, I'm not getting this foot work."

"Just follow my lead."

"Well then lead better," she suggested, sticking out her tongue.

He rolled her eyes. "You're getting the twirl, right?"

"I think so?"

"Let's check." Without warning, Fred disregarded the professor's orders and turned Angelina in towards him. In one fluid move, she found herself spinning around his lifted hand's guidance as his free hand gently pushed against her back. Her hair and skirt followed her movements as she found herself at arms length away from her partner. Hand-in-hand, Fred gently tugged her back toward him, his hand nestling on her hip. The entire move happened within the music's timing and she was caught slightly breathless. "Yeah, you're getting the twirl," he concluded smoothly.

"You're good," she commented, feeling warmed by his voice. "How are you so good at this?"

"Secret."

"Ms. Johnson. Mr. Weasley. Would you two mind terribly to actually follow directions for the sake of argument?" McGonagall lectured. The two students straightened up and took a moment to match up with their classmates. Off to the side, Hermione yipped as Harry stamped on her foot. Luna's natural yet absurd grace was proving a good match to Neville's footsteps; though he was having difficulty maintaining the leading position such that she would sometimes float away and forget to come back. George and Alicia were stiff as two planks of wood, working through their mutually unvocalized interests in each other. Katie was as forgiving as she could be for Ron's inability to get the steps' patterns down. Fred and Angelina were doing considerably well.

Regardless, Angelina couldn't ignore the fact that Fred was a naturally good dancer. He wasn't perfect, though. Sometimes, he would forget to maintain the proper distance from her and would pull her in closer than needed. Sometimes, his leading hand would tarry and his thumb would softly rub along hers instead of remaining stiff and flexible for a moment's spin. Sometimes, he would lose focus of their surroundings and they would run into another couple, his attention seemingly fixed elsewhere. But he was wonderful at twirling her, and she realized that she loved to be twirled. And when they learned the lifts, she felt very comfortable and safe as his hands cradled her hips. And he had such nice shoulders to brace against.

Finally, the lesson reached the point where the professor allowed the students to practice what they had just learned without direct guidance. Instead, she would walk around the room and observe, applying the necessary spells to prevent girls from being dropped or guys from being savagely kicked in the shins.

"You know, this isn't as bad as I thought it'd be," Angelina admitted as they tried the quick switches.

"Of course not. You're such a cynic, you know."

"I am not!"

"Of course you are. Assuming the worse in people. I'm sure you assumed that Harry wouldn't be able to refrain from killing his partner's toes," Fred mentioned as they looked over to catch Hermione yelp again, "or that Neville might be a reincarnation of that muggle bloke… Astaire or something?" Neville was still wrangling Luna into keeping to the dance, but he was doing surprisingly well at learning the steps. "And I know you figured my twin brother would be just plain awful on the floor."

"I heard that," George grumbled, lifting Alicia haphazardly nearby.

Angelina laughed. "But Fred, all of those things are true."

"I heard that, too," George added, managing to bring Alicia back to the floor safely.

"Hmm, guess you're right. You're cynical but wise, I suppose," he added with a shrug before lifting her.

"You have such high regards for me. Then why'd you ask me to dance?"

"Maybe I wanted to show you that I'm pretty good myself."

"Which you have."

"And maybe I wanted to show you how not as good the other blokes are." The two watched as Ron tried in vain to switch his arms properly, Katie sighing in exasperation.

"Which is true, apparently. But it's only the first lesson, to be fair. Plenty of time to improve."

"Which is fair. But maybe I figured that if you saw how good I'm already shaping out to be, that'd be more incentive for you."

"For me to what?"

"To go to the ball with me," he asked, feeling the blush annoyingly rise.

"Me? Ball? With you?" she repeated in surprise.

"Sure. I think it'd be a lot of fun. At least you wouldn't have to worry about me stepping on your toes all night."

"Or dropping me on my head."

"Right."

"Or trying to cop a feel."

"Right. Wait, I never said anything about that," he corrected with mischevious eyes. She pulled out of his hold, resting her hands on his hips with her classic "don't even try that on me" pose. Fred chuckled, taking one of her hands and twirling her back into the music. "I'd try to behave as best I could. But I can't be held accountable if you show up in an enticing dress. I'm only human. And I know you."

"What does that mean exactly?"

"If you go with me to the ball, you'll probably torture me all night long in some little number that'll send stars around my head till I'm dizzy."

"Is that really what I'd do or is that wishful thinking on your part?"

"And you're a pretty good dancer yourself, which means you'll probably be dancing rings around me with that bubbly giggle you say you don't have."

"Because I don't have a bubbly giggle!"

"And I'll be struggling all night to keep you impressed when you'll probably be so amazing in every way possible that I'll look ten times more incredible just being your date."

She couldn't suppress her shy smile at that. At least she managed to recover from it with a thoughtful expression of consideration. "Hmm. You're right. That all sounds like something I would do or things that would happen. If I went with you," she added with as much nonchalance as she could muster.

He lifted her. "Well then? Are you really going to turn up an offer to have me bumbling like an idiot for an entire night?"

"Considering what else I have to work with? …Fred?"

"Yes?"

"Prepare yourself. You're going to turn into a puddle of butterbeer when I'm through with you."

"I am one poor and lucky bastard." His smile shot to her spine and into her knees, which tripped up her feet and caused her to slip a little on the spot. Fred adjusted his hold, finding the small of her back in time to dip her slightly so she wouldn't fall onto the ground. The touch was electric.

She smiled up at him weakly. "I think that makes two of us."

**

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	3. Chapter 3: Make a Bet

A/N: I reread this scenario, and there's a short passage that's a potential sexual innuendo (reminds me of "Buttons") I hadn't meant to write. XD Feel free to point it out if you notice it.

A/N 2: If you like this story, you might like reading "Buttons."

A/N 3: Thank you to the following readers--thelightningstrike, SecretCrowds120, carly, and xXxTroubleKelpxXx. I really appreciate your reviews and words of encouragement ^^

Disclaimer: I still don't own _Harry Potter_.

SCENARIO 3: Make a Bet or Bond through Pranking

Fred smiled when he heard Angelina's voice somewhere behind him, followed by the familiar approach of footsteps. She was swapping words with another Gryffindor girl, obviously trying her best to be polite while evading whatever trivial matters the girl was going on about.

"Phew," she sighed once she joined his leaning stance on the banister.

"You could've just used that dung bomb to get away, you know."

"Perhaps. But unlike some freckled-faced folk I know, I like to be decent to people," Angelina rationalized, feeling her robe's pockets for one of the many free Weasley products to which she was privvy.

He rolled his eyes. "Decency is overrated."

She nudged his elbow. "Oh, don't give me that. You may play indecent, Fred, but you're one of the most decent people I know."

"Shush, Angie. You want everyone to hear that?"

"Heaven forbid. Wotcher doing?"

"Testing new products," he replied, rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows without looking up from his downward focus.

"Ohhhh." She leaned over the banister to follow his gaze. The great staircase was anything but simple; an elaborate movement of dizzying stair swapping that occasionally tripped up unknowing first years into confusing corners. Every so often, Fred would pull a small marble-like ball from his pocket. The tip of his tongue peaking from the corner of his mouth, he would arch his wrist to aim and launch the ball down the way. Angelina watched as the ball would land softly in a student's robes. "Should I even ask what you're testing?"

"Only if you want to be an accomplice. Though I'm sure you'd look lovely in black and white stripes," he added.

"Uh-huh, sure," she replied. Smoothly, Angelina reached into Fred's robes to pull out a few balls. Fred tensed at the unexpected-but-pleasant clothing invasion, a soft pink hitting his cheeks. She rolled the balls around her palm, inspecting them. "So what do these fellows do?"

He cleared his throat. "Mischief, of course."

"I could use a little of that right now. What're you doing exactly?"

"Planting them on targets."

"Targets?" She double-checked the people walking below. She noticed most of them were Slytherins. "Ah, 'targets'."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Strange properties these balls have."

"Yeah, they slow down on the drop so they won't cause a distinct impact. Targets don't feel a thing. Well, not till it's too late anyway."

"Clever. May I?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Be my guest."

"Who haven't you hit yet?"

"Hmm." Fred's eyes glossed over the various students before landing on Blaise, pointing his position out. "That annoying bloke, for one."

Angelina cracked her knuckles. "Ahh. *Him.* Excellent," she said. With a graceful wrist flick, the ball glided through the air and landed softly in Blaise's cloak.

"Impressive!" Fred regarded.

Angelina smiled. "Who says Quidditch skills can't translate into everyday life?"

"How about that particularly ugly one over there, then?" Fred asked, pointing to a girl with a permanent scowl on her face.

"Fred! That's so mean!" she reprimmanded until she looked at the girl. She flinched. "Right, nevermind. Let's see." Angelina aley-ooped the ball underhanded, which gently flew through the air to fall into the girl's mass of hair.

"I am thoroughly impressed, my dear." She nodded her head in pride. "But let's say we amp things up some," he suggested.

"How so?"

"I have a bit of a wager for you."

"Explain."

"You know that Yule Ball thing coming up?"

"How can anyone _not _know about it? It's the talk of the school."

"Well, I could use a date to this thing," Fred began.

"Really? The famous Fred Weasley doesn't have a date yet? That's odd considering the lot that follows you around."

"What 'lot'?"

"You and George practically have a fan club of gaggling dimwits on your heels, and don't act like you don't know it."

"Hadn't noticed," he said while feigning innocence. He leaned in closely with that half-smirk of his. "Jealous?"

Angelina rolled her eyes, redirecting the topic. "What were you saying?"

"Well, I see a certain Malfoy twit coming at six o'clock. What say we place a bet as to who can hit him with the most skill?"

"You're questioning my skills now?"

"Oh no, not questioning. Just challenging. Nothing wrong with a little competition."

Angelina's eyes flickered with fire. "Terms?"

"If your move's better, you win, your terms. If my move's better, I win, and you be my date to the ball."

She smiled. "You could just ask, you know."

Fred winked. "This is about Quidditch skills in everyday life, Angie. This has nothing to do with the dance."

Angelina crossed her arms. "Oh no? Then why bet a date?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"All right then. My terms, huh?"

"Yes. What'd you like?"

"Hmm." She pretended to think. "How about a load of those delicious chocolates you know I like from Hogsmeade?"

Fred tried to hide his disappointment, hoping she might wager something similar to his terms. "All right. Deal." They shook on it.

"So how do we judge who's better?"

"Did someone say 'judge who's better?'" another voice inquired. Angelina jumped to discover Lee Jordan right by her side.

"Merlin! Lee, could you _not _do that?" she asked, clutching her heart.

Fred grinned, giving his friend a handshake, saying "You're like a bloody ninja, you are."

Lee gave a magnanimous bow. "One of my many talents. But yes, if you need a judge, you've got your man."

"All right then. But none of this boys-watching-each-others'-backs stuff. You've got to be fair."

"Of course, Ange. I'd never cheat you," Lee added, batting his lashes at her. "Most challenging toss wins the bet, so I'd go for creativity points."

"Gentlemen first," Angelina offered. Fred wrinkled his nose at her.

Looking across the hallway, Fred smirked at the sight of one unsuspecting Nearly-Headless Nick, who was engaged in a heated conversation with another ghost. Aiming for Nick, the ball arched and fell down what would've been Nick's transparent esophagus, plummeted straight downward to bounce off of Crabbe's head. Crabbe, who occupied his usual lackey stance next to his leader, gave the ball the rebound means to slide into Malfoy's robes.

Angelina and Lee nodded approvingly. "Extra points for the ghost neck slam dunk," Lee added. Nearly-Headless Nick looked around suspiciously, trying to figure out what had just happened.

"Your turn, m'lady," Fred replied.

Angelina took a moment to take in the various points and objects in the hallway, calculating her potential avenues. Finally, she took her aim and threw the ball. It headed straight for the lady-on-a-swing portrait, colliding with the lady's foot's momentum to bounce across the hallway and hit the banister. It proceeded to hit a napping Mrs. Filch in the head, lightly waking her from her sleep. It then bounced off of Crabbe's thick head, which slowed it down enough to skip into Malfoy's robes.

The boys stood, mouths gaping. "Great execution. Triple points for hitting portrait, cat, and dimwit," Lee commented. He motioned towards Angelina, who took a graceful bow. "The winner!"

"Brilliant," Fred acknowledged, shaking her hand. "I'm gonna have to employ your skills more often."

"As you should! But for now, I'll be expecting those chocolates during the next Hogsmeade trip," she ordered.

"A bet's a bet," Fred agreed. "Although that almost sounds like a date, Angie."

She grinned and shrugged. "You owe me chocolates, which happen to only be sold in Hogsmeade. And it'd be easier if I just went with you so I can take advantage of getting my fill. I can't help the technicalities."

"Guess I can't argue with that."

"*And* I'll expect your robes to be freshly ironed for the ball," she added, fixing one of his sleeves that had come unrolled during their conversation.

"Wait, what?" He was partially distracted by her fingertips tickling his arm.

"I'll go with you. I mean, as you said before, why not?"

"So is *that* a date, then?"

She shrugged, her hand lingering on his elbow. "If you're just so stuck on labeling these things, Fred, then yeah. I guess that is a date. Well, a date times two if the ball goes well enough."

Fred smiled at her. She smiled in turn.

"So what do those balls do anyway?" Lee asked, interrupting the moment. Upon remembering Lee's presence, Angelina removed her hand from Fred's arm. It was Fred's turn to roll his eyes and glare at his mate.

"Right. Thanks, Lee." Pulling out his wand, the Weasley flicked his wrist and cast a spell. Within seconds, one person from below started to scratch herself. Then another person. Then another. The scratching grew more fierce and louder.

"Bloody hell" one Slytherin shouted, doubling over to scratch all over his skin, which had started to grow little green bumps all over.

Malfoy was scratching even more furiously than everyone else, rolling around on the floor like a dirty Fang. All non-Slytherin students burst into laughter, watching their maladjusted castle mates spaz out.

"Yikes, that looks dreadful. Nice job!" Lee replied, shaking Fred's hand.

"If anyone asks, they've got a rare strain of pox," Fred explained. "That's what happens when you have twisted and deranged Slytherin saps hang out with each other. S-pox outbreaks also happen when you're a twit who gets caught stealing ivy powder from Snape's office, fools around with it, and gets it on everyone else; which is what'll be found in Malfoy's bag." Angie opened her mouth to inquire. "Earlier reconnaissance mission courtesy of George. Hence Malfoy has the worst itches of all those twits."

"Couldn't you have just done a spell for all that?" Angelina asked.

"Could've, yeah, but easier to sell merchandise anyone can use than expect people to get difficult spells right. Plus there's the added bonus of..."

"BLOODY HELL!" Malfoy shouted as his hair turned shaggy and green. The other scratchers shouted as their own dos turned putrid colors.

"You don't want to know what else turned green," Fred whispered.

"Twisted you and George are. Think I'll go get a closer look at the agony," said Lee with a Weasley-like grin, descending the stairs.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side, Fred," replied Angelina.

"I don't think you'll ever have to worry about that, Angel." Taking note of Mrs. Filch sniffing the air and her upward glance toward Fred, the twin removed himself from the banister. "Well, that's my cue to find a proper alibi. Angie, feel like having an alibi with me?"

"Sure. What say we further discuss this whole ball thing? I feel like there are rules to lay down."

"Such as?" he asked, offering her his arm. She took it playfully.

"If you bring any of your spells with you and they backfire on me, you will get Hell."

"Ooh."

"No no, the painful kind of Hell."

"Oh. Damn."

As a certain cat's flicking tail came into sight, the two mischief-makers made a quick getaway into the Gryffindor common room.

**

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	4. Chapter 4: Send a Twin to Do One's Work

A/N: Thank you for sticking with me on this! I would've posted this over the weekend, but I was considering rewriting/scrapping this scenario all together. Instead, I ended up lengthening it a bit. As always, reviews are lovely!

Disclaimer: I don't own _HP_.

SCENARIO 4: Send a Twin to Do One's Work

"Oi! Ange!" a voice called to her from across the pasture. She turned toward the advancing twin, standing up from her crouched position to dust grass off of her skirt.

"Bout time, Weasley. You should've been here five minutes ago."

"Sorry about that. Fred was determined to knock out some labeling projects and I couldn't get away."

Angelina stared at him for a brief second before recovering from her momentary confusion. "I see. Well, I guess it's better than what your brother does to me. Always ridiculously late, leaving me in the dark for hours on end."

"Oh, I'm sure he's not that bad. At least not when it comes to you," he replied.

"Me? I'm not sure what you mean by that."

He shook his head with a "Nevermind" and shoved his hands into his pockets. "He is one who likes to make an entrance," he admitted, changing topical gears.

"That's horribly true; the more elaborate, the better," she added. "So what's this about? Why the seclusion?"

"Well...I didn't want anyone to interrupt us and I wanted to find out something."

Her stance straightened up at his serious tone. "Go ahead?"

With a deep breath, he took a moment to distill the butterflies. "Would you go to the dance with my brother?"

She stared at him again. "Hypothetically? Or are you asking me out for him?"

"Um, moreso the latter."

Nervously, she pulled her hair over her shoulder. "Really? Why are you telling me this?"

"Because he's thinking about asking you but doesn't know whether he should or not."

"I'm confused. Remind me who we're talking about again?"

He looked at her, deadpanned. "Who do you think?"

"I'm not really sure at the moment, actually."

"We're talking about Fred, of course!"

"Of…course. Fred. And why wouldn't he? Or, wait, why would he?"

Now he was confused. "Why wouldn't or would he _what_?"

"Why wouldn't he know to ask me?" she tried to clarify. He began to answer, but she cut him off. "Or, I guess, why would he want to ask me?" He looked at her puzzled face with his own puzzlement. "I mean, why would he want to ask me in the first place? ...I don't think I'm making any sense, am I?" she finally admitted, flustered.

He ruffled his hair. "I think I follow you. Fred doesn't know if you've already got a date, or if you'd even want to go with him. So he chickened out and asked me to find out for him." He grinned. "You know how Fred hates to show how shy he can really get."

She hummed in agreement, crossing her arms. "Suppose so. Frustrating, though. He could just ask me himself. I don't bite."

He raised his eyebrow.

She matched his raised eyebrow with her own. "What?"

"Remember when that one Ravenclaw guy asked you out?"

"You mean the one who tried to ask me out by grabbing my arse and saying some horrid line at me?"

He restrained the laughter. "Yes. And do you remember what you did to him?"

"I punched him in the face."

"There now."

She stuck her finger out at him defensively. "I said I wouldn't bite; I never said anything about not punching. And he deserved it."

"Yes, yes he did," he said with a smile.

"Would you rather I'd have let him get away with it?"

"No, I wouldn't have. And I'm sure Fred wouldn't have let him get away with it, either."

"He didn't. He let loose some horrible spell moments after he found out. Made the bloke's hand grab at any female professor's arse within distance for an hour straight. McGonnagall was not pleased. The guy got slammed with multiple detentions for that." She laughed.

He laughed along with her. "So Ravenclaw guy learned his lesson."

"I'd only hope so. At least he hasn't tried that on me ever again." Her voice became more soft-spoken. "You know, Fred came to find me afterward, to check on my hand. Wanted to make sure I hadn't hurt my knuckles from the impact on that prat's face." Her fingers gently caressed the knuckles of her knuckle-punch hand.

His eyes watched her gesture for a minute before he cleared his throat, asking "So, d'you think you'll go with him? With Fred, I mean. To the ball."

"Perhaps. He'd have to ask me to find out, though."

"Right," he responded. "Because you know he'd love to go with you, even if he doesn't know how to just...well...say it."

"Yeah, he is bloody awful at that whole 'speak your mind' thing at times," she noted, her eyes reflecting more intention in her words.

He ruffled his hair again, frustrated by the silence that started to engulf them. She took the opportunity to breach the distance between them and put her hand on his arm.

"So, just ask me, Fred."

He blinked in surprise. "Sorry?"

She smiled sincerely. "I know you too well, Fred. I know it's you." He opened his mouth to speak but she raised her hand to cut him off. "The gig is up, Fred. Come clean with your hands up."

Rethinking his planned speech, he sighed and relaxed what had been a very tense posture. "Damnit, what gave it away?"

"The way you carry yourself. Plus the hair ruffle thing. You and George do it with opposite hands."

"Damn, you are observant. Or…you take to watching me a lot," Fred guessed, leaning closer to her face with a playful wink.

She blushed. "No comment."

He smiled. "So, Angie, will you go to the ball with me?"

"Well, you did just try to lie to my face. And anyone who pretends to be someone else, referring to himself in the third person, obviously has some marbles loose."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head. "You're a little crazy, but you're cute enough, so I guess I'll go with you anyway." She winked at him before walking away.

A little confused by what just happened, he chuckled and half-jogged to catch up with her. When he got to her side, he reached down to take her hand. Completely caught off guard, her eyes darted to their joined hands with only enough time to register his lips on her skin as he gave her knuckles several soft kisses. As brief as the kisses were, he didn't let go of her hand all the way back to the main grounds. Yeah, he was definitely Fred.

**

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Please review!!


	5. Chapter 5: Ask with a Gesture

**Original A/N**: Last one, practically all description. Please review and let me know what you think. If anything, let me know which of the five scenarios was your favorite! Thanks for reading!

**UPDATED A/N: **So I've been having comp issues over the past few months, which doubled a couple of weeks ago when the computer on which I'd been writing my current stories got stolen (gotta love when your car's broken into...oh wait, no, there's no love for that). I had rewritten this chapter, but that version is on my stolen comp. My current comp has a muddled harddrive, so I haven't been motivated to write, being way too frustrated to rewrite my lost ideas until recently. Anyway, sorry for this being overdue. Thank you for being such great readers, I've really appreciated the feedback!

Disclaimer: I don't own _HP._

SCENARIO 5: Ask with a Gesture Rather than Conversation

Dinner time in the Great Hall was becoming an even crazier affair than normal, what with three additional schools camped on the premises. Every Hogwarts house was alive with chatter about the tournament and subsequent ball. Some were excited to see what the tournament challenges would be. Others were chatting about who had asked who to the ball, who people were thinking about asking, and what the whole affair would be like.

For one Fred Weasley, the prospect of the ball was already nerve-wracking enough without everyone else talking about it. He hadn't asked anyone yet. The one person he really wanted to go with was still free, as far as he was aware. It was simply a matter of gathering the courage to ask her before anyone else did.

But how was he expected to do that when she was sitting right bloody next to him, chatting away at the exact topic with a girl friend?

As his brothers talked with other friends across the table, Fred drank his pumpkin juice and tried to eavesdrop on the girls' conversation. Apparently, Angelina was still free. Yes, Angelina was hoping that someone would ask her, someone in particular. Who could that be? No, of course she wouldn't admit who that was; only the better to frustrate all eavesdroppers, my dear. Well, what if that guy didn't ask her? Would she ask him out? This is what her girl friend asked, and Fred mentally applauded the interviewer; yes, what would Angelina do? She wasn't sure. She'd rather the guy ask her but if he didn't, it would probably be because he had someone else in mind for his date. Did she ever sound so disappointed, Fred thought, because this guy hadn't even made a move yet; this guy must be a complete twit. But the girl friend encouraged Angelina, saying that there's enough time left. And what if another guy asked her to go instead of her ideal date? Fred took a big bite of his pastry. Angelina shrugged in response, her shoulders brushing Fred's body. Turning to face him, she seemed flushed as she apologized, as though immediately embarrassed about something. Not bothered in the least bit, Fred smiled at her, his cheeks puffed out with pastry. When she turned back to her friend, he berated himself for not chewing smaller bites as Mum always lectured. Well, Angelina surmised she'd go with someone else, but it wouldn't be as much fun as her ideal date.

Fred took all of this into consideration until Ron called at him from the opposite side of the table. Fred nodded and answered his little brother's question, which George echoed in amusement. As that conversation continued, the girls' conversation turned toward Victor Krum. Fred rolled his eyes, having hoped that Ron's obsession wouldn't be matched by everyone else's at school. His hopes had been dashed.

Dinner was over sooner than expected, and the houses broke up to return to their respective rooms. Angelina walked ahead with Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, their words lost in the murmuring sea of Gryffindors. Fred hung back with George and Lee Jordan, thinking to himself about how to ask Angelina to the ball. It wasn't a huge deal after all; they were close friends, and she was one of the few girls around which he could be himself, both trickster and regular. But there was someone she really wanted to ask her. Who could that be? And would he then be immediately rejected if he asked her? Harry came up to him in that moment and asked him about this-and-that. Fred answered him the best that he could, amused that the this-and-that referred to girls and dating. Seeing that Harry had never had the type of family bonding that was inherent with the Weasleys, Fred was more than happy to be an older brother and provide some advice. Harry nodded his thanks, then ran to catch up with a disgruntled Hermione. Ron must've done something, again.

A few of the Gryffindors lingered in the common room, where Fred took roost on a couch to further consider his options. How would he ask Angelina? He could make it into a comedic moment as expected of him; maybe do it in public to defuse any tension he'd feel otherwise. He could tell that Harry and Ron were struggling, so he could help them out by showing them the ropes. Or he could grab Angelina after class and just throw it out there? But oh, the witnesses in case she rejected him. He wasn't always so great with spontaneous speech, especially when it came to matters like asking out the girl of his dreams. They did have dance lessons coming up, and he had been practicing. Oh yes, when he'd found out that there would be a ball this year, he came to school prepared. This had consisted of having Mrs. Weasley show him the dance moves over and over again in the Burrow when everyone else was out or asleep. As embarrassing as it had been to learn to dance with his hands on his Mum's waist, it was still loads better than learning on Professor McGonagall. Poor Ronniekins. Maybe he could ask Angelina to the ball after showing her how much he'd prepared for the dance just so he'd be less concerned about stepping on her toes and more focused on just enjoying her presence, her hand in his. If that didn't work, then maybe he could concoct some silly bet just to take the edge off of him asking her out, channeling her attention on the fairness of the call. But she was so good at so many things, how would a bet even work out? And would she even accept a date as terms for a bet? Perhaps George could ask her out for him… Nah, George would tell him to do it himself and own up.

Well, what did that leave him with? Fred sat up and looked across the room where Angelina was talking to Hermione. The older Gryffindor seemed to be comforting the younger one on some matters. Angelina caught Fred's stare and she gave him a timid smile, shrugging her shoulders as though to answer some unspoken question about Hermione's condition. He returned her timid smile before falling backward on the couch.

Barely a moment later, he looked upward into the rich brown eyes of none other than his mind's tormentor.

"'Ello," he greeted her softly.

"Hi there," she returned, descending to rest her elbows on the couch's arm, dropping her knees on the ground.

"How're you? Haven't seen much of you today," Fred asked while rolling over onto his stomach to look her more comfortably in the eye.

She tucked renegade strands of hair behind her ears, avoiding his glance for a brief second. "I'm all right."

"You don't seem so all right," he countered, noting the evasion and a sheen of sadness in her eyes.

Her eyebrow raised a little. "Why do you say that?"

"I know you better than that," he whispered softly as a pair of laughing classmates walked past them. "What's got you upset?"

"I'm fine. Really, Fred. Just wishing things were going a little differently."

"What things?"

She shrugged shyly. "This whole ball thing. It's what's got everyone frazzled. It's why I've been trying to cheer up Hermione most of this evening. Disappointment's like a really bad chain spell gone horribly wrong."

He felt his heart twitch. "The ball, huh? This wouldn't have anything to do with having a date, would it?"

"How'd you know?"

"What, you don't have one yet?"

"Nope." She exhaled deeply, leaning her cheek on one arm. "Not even close. Don't think it'll happen this late in the game."

"I wouldn't say that," he softly prophesized.

"And what makes you say that?"

"Well, who wouldn't want to take you?" he offered with a slight stutter.

"Apparently the entire school considering I come before you, dateless," Angelina responded with a dramatic head bow.

As much as Fred didn't necessarily want to know the answer (in case he wasn't the answer), he felt inclined to think of her best interest. So he asked, "Is there someone you want to go with? ...Maybe you should ask him yourself?"

She tried to look at him directly but blushed in response, waving the moment away with ignorance. "Enough about me. What about you, Fred? You got your date?"

"I'm still working on it," he admitted with a half-smile.

"Well, don't wait too long." Angelina stood up, gently rubbing her knees in the process. Fred swallowed hard at the sadness she was trying to hide behind her veil of hair as she pretended to soothe her skin. He really needed to move fast; he hated seeing her confidence waver. But just as he opened his mouth, he felt her hand gently land on his head and sweep through his messy locks. "And make it count. If the lucky girl's anything like me right now, she could use an encouraging gesture sooner rather than later. Night Fred," she told him before walking away.

Fred collapsed face-first into a pillow, feeling the pressure increase ten-fold in her last statement. Right. He was doomed. This "asking" process was harder than he figured. He continued to think as George walked past the couch, patting his twin on the head as a gesture of empathy.

**

Angelina laid dead awake, tossing on top of her bed covers. It had been a long day, and her thoughts were occupied with various unanswered questions. Until a soft thud against the window disrupted her insomnia. Sitting upright, she looked over to see a little grey owl perched on the window ledge, shaking itself right. She opened the window to let Pigwigeon inside, who presented his leg to her. Unraveling the note, she was surprised to find a handful of her favorite candies inside the pouch-like piece of parchment. She patted Pig's head and offered him an owl treat; she then smiled as she read the note, popping a piece of candy into her mouth. Finding a quill and ink from her bedside, she scrawled her response and tied it to his leg. The little owl hooted softly in response and flew zigzag out of the room.

**

Fred laid dead awake, tossing on top of his bed covers. It had been a long day, and his thoughts were occupied with the anxious fears of how she'd take his message. A soft thud against the window disrupted his contemplation, and he let inside the headache-suffering family owl. Opening the familar piece of paper, he read over the note, which had a new handwriting on it.

His original scrawl said the following:

Will you go to the ball with me?

O Yes

O No

O Maybe, if the guy I want to ask me doesn't do so

From Fred

P.S. Enjoy the candy as you think about it.

Her handwriting had made the following indications:

Will you go to the ball with me?

X Yes

Maybe, if the guy I want to ask me doesn't do so = **Fred, there's no one else I want to go with**.

From Angelina

-

Just as he finished, Fred looked up from the parchment to hear a soft tapping on the glass, followed by the sight of a familiar witch perched on her broomstick. Moving carefully acrossed the shared dorm room, Fred quietly opened the window to peer up at one flying Angelina. In this rare moment of voluntary rule-breaking (by flying to the boys' quarters in the middle of the night without supervision), she was clad in a modest pair of pajama pants and a tank top. But above all things, it was her smile in slow motion that drew his eyes: the corners lifted, the lips curled, the eyes twinkled, and her hair curtained the head's bow as she hid from his sight. Fred found her absolutely gorgeous. Humble beauty.

"What're you doing out here?" he reprimmanded, though his whispering voice clearly indicated his amusement and joy at her presence. He rested his elbows on the window's ledge as she maneuvered her broom to hover closer to him.

"I forgot to put this in the note," she told him, offering him her closed hand. Fred opened his palm and felt her transfer small objects into his grasp. "I wanted you to enjoy this with me," she explained. They were a few pieces of the candy he'd sent to her.

"Cheers," he replied, smiling until he took note of her timid expression.

"I'm sure you'll find this silly but... Just for the record, you haven't asked me only because..." she began until Fred reached up and popped one of the candy balls into her mouth, stifling her speech.

"No, Angel, I didn't ask you out of pity. None of that, love. I really want to go with you," he interjected.

"Really?" she asked, the candy ball protruding from one of her cheeks as though she was a chipmunk.

He grinned. "Really."

"Oi, lovelies, this is touching. But can this wait till tomorrow? Sleep time," a groggy Lee requested from deep in the room.

"Sorry Lee," both Angelina and Fred apologized.

"All right then," said Fred. Standing tall, he leaned forward to catch Angelina off guard with a kiss on the candy-protruding cheek. Pulling away, Fred popped a piece of candy into his own cheek, mirroring her image. "Thanks for sharing," he told her with a wink.

Momentarily stunned, she broke into another slow motion smile. "Any time. Goodnight, Fred."

"Goodnight, Angel," he whispered as she disappeared around the corner.

All smiles, Fred flopped back onto his bed. He held her note against his chest and couldn't do anything except grin as his roommates snored back into oblivion. Elsewhere in the Gryffindor house, Angelina quietly closed the window and laid back on her bed, all smiles. The two enjoyed a piece of candy with each other from afar as the night twinkled on.

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One last time, please review!!!


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